


There’s Nothing So Dreadful as Being in Love

by hotchoco195



Category: Angel: the Series, Jossverse
Genre: Demon Bar, Drunkenness, M/M, The Boss - Freeform, You've Done This Before, major angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-19
Updated: 2012-11-19
Packaged: 2017-11-19 01:34:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/567550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotchoco195/pseuds/hotchoco195
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in a post-season 5 Angel where there was no Not Fade Away, no Circle of the Black Thorn. Wesley's never gotten over Fred. He's teetering on the brink and Angel wants to fix it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There’s Nothing So Dreadful as Being in Love

A kiss is more than a touch. It’s trouble. It’s a feeling. It’s what separates whores from mistresses, mistresses from wives. It can be urgent and stolen, or the agonisingly slow caress of lovers who have fallen out of synch with time. It can seem to stretch on forever, until nothing exists beyond the flesh against yours and the soft hum under your skin. Everything else is darkness.

Everything else can be empty, but a kiss must be intimate. It is revealing – though you can try until you burst, you cannot hold back the small part of yourself that is given away with a kiss. It will betray you. It is a sensation made to be sincere. You cannot pretend with a kiss, even if you hide behind one, or one hundred. The first gloss of the memory wears away and the truth lays stark and ugly.

My kisses are lies. They are promises that must be broken but have to be made, a balm to soothe the inevitable desertion. I am remembered by these tongue-twirling trifles, and at least I am remembered well.

The ghosts of city walls long demolished seem to shut me in. I cannot lie still in bed, feeling the imaginary stone rise up to cut off my escape. I get tired sometimes and try to stay. I find work that doesn’t bore me and I talk to people in questions and I let them into my life, or my bed. But it’s never enough, and as they claw for more of me the days take on a certain pallor until I see nothing but the black of the road, beckoning. The road never tries to keep me.

It is better that way, to be in the in-between, where there are no adoring smiles or questions. No one asks the dandelion where it blows on the wind.

*****

_Wesley’s been gone about two years now. As soon as Fred left this world, the man we knew followed. He shuffles into the office quietly, he sits at meetings quietly, he locks himself up with Illyria and they do whatever they’re doing quietly. He takes these extended field trips every so often, muttering about research and sources. He’s away a few weeks and when he comes back he always smells of cheap booze and sex, the kind you can’t wash off. I never mention it, and I told Spike if he brought it up I’d put him back in that amulet. He seemed to understand._

*****

Angel can sense it on me. The restlessness. I felt it once before, when they cast me out and all I could think about was finding something, anything, to distract me from those horrified looks at the hospital – the next demon was always a welcome relief. Lilah, of all people, was a welcome relief. But back then there was something to hold myself together for; there was a chance for redemption. There’s no going back this time. Things can never be as they were.

I pick towns like Sunnydale: small, isolated, lots of demons and bars. I wage war against the evil, fighting until my knuckles are split and blood runs over my fists, until my ammo is spent. Then I wash up and head out to whichever local dump serves the best whiskey. If there’s someone interesting, I take them back to my hotel; if not, I get drunk. And when I get too familiar with the regulars, I return to L.A. and Angel nods and says nothing. No one asks how my trip was. There’s no one left to care.

*****

_I’ve seen too much human grief over the last two hundred years. I know how it works – I exploited it, once upon a time. Wes needs time. He needs space from the Fred he remembers. The tighter he holds onto those memories, the longer he dwells, the harder it is to adjust. If I could just get him out of his head for awhile...really, truly distract him. Not like those bullshit ‘vacations’. Not those crusades in the name of forgetting. If. It’s the biggest word in any language. If._

*****

“Angel? You wanted to see me?”

“Yeah, come in Wes. Sit.”

The Englishman lowered himself onto his boss’ couch a little uncomfortably as Angel continued to rummage through his kitchen.

“Sorry about the mess. It’s been a while since I’ve had anyone up here.”

Wesley glanced over the haphazard piles of laundry and books that cluttered the coffee table and kitchen counters with a raised brow.

“You know you have people to take care of the apartment, yes?”

“I got rid of them. They were going through my stuff.”

“Spying for the Senior Partners?”

“For Lindsey, actually.”

Angel surfaced with two tumblers and a bottle of twelve-year-old Glenfiddich. He swept half the mess off the little table and set up the drinks, pouring for both of them as he sat next to Wes on the couch.

“Lindsey...I didn’t know he still had that much influence around here.”

Angel looked kinda sheepish. “Um, he doesn’t. I just haven’t replaced the cleaners.”

“It’s been two years.” Wes pointed out, accepting a glass.

“Believe it or not, I didn’t actually call you up here to talk about the housekeeping over my good scotch. I’m...concerned. About you.”

“Oh God, we’re not attempting a heart to heart, are we?” Wesley took a deep drink.

Angel grimaced. “That was the plan.”

The warlock put down his scotch and clapped his hands on his knees. “Well then, in that case thanks for the invite Angel, but I really should be getting back to work.”

“Sit,” Angel demanded, cutting off Wes as he stood, “I’m the boss, and I’m telling you to take the night off. Come on Wes, sit down, have a drink and talk to me a little. It’ll be fun.”

Wesley looked at him doubtfully but grabbed the bottle and refilled his glass.

“I suppose, if it’s an order. What are you concerned about? Specifically.”

“I don’t think you’ve dealt with things properly. Fred, Illyria, getting all your memories back – Lilah and Connor and Justine slitting your throat. I mean, those are big things to deal with! Anyone would have trouble reconciling all that.”

“I did my time with the office psych, same as everyone else. Do you feel my performance isn’t up to standard?” Wes said quietly. The cold tone only made Angel more determined to break through that calm facade.

“You’re great at the job Wes – it’s the other stuff. Life stuff. As in, you’re not out there getting on with it.”

Wesley chuckled mirthlessly. “You’re one to talk. How many decades did you spend grieving over all the lives you took? How many good people did you run away from, because you were afraid you couldn’t control yourself? You’ve avoided life far longer than I have.”

“But I have more than one lifetime. I can afford to drag it out.”

Wesley drained his second glass and Angel poured another.

“I live. Meet people, do good deeds-”

“You mean you fuck strangers and slaughter demons to put off the pain of _not_ feeling the pain anymore. These little road trips of yours Wes, they’re a distraction – the bad kind. You need to get out of this cycle.”

“You know, it’s pretty rich _you_ telling _me_ to just get over it. We’re both as pathetic as each other, Captain Forehead.”

There was an awkward pause where they both realised Wesley might be drunker than he seemed.

“You’ve been hanging out with Spike too much.”

“He’s surprisingly good for literary conversation.”

“He was a poet. You know, before.”

“So I’ve heard.”

There was an even longer pause. Angel clutched his glass like a security blanket, letting the warmth of the scotch ease him into their chat. He glanced over at Wesley, the other man staring blankly into his drink with those hard blue eyes. _God_ , Angel thought, _this is gonna take all night_.

*****

“You know what else? Illyria ate all my best cufflinks. All of them! I had to start hiding all the good utensils, or they would have gone too!”

“That’s just...tragic. She doesn’t have a problem, you know, processing all that stuff?” Angel slurred from the arm of the couch.

Wesley stopped pacing, suddenly the Watcher again. “No, I have this theory that Fred’s organs were replaced by some kind of organic combustion engine. Everything just gets broken down straight into energy...a spell of some kind maybe...where was I?”

“Cutlery!” the drunk vampire supplied.

“Right. What about it?”

They both looked around contemplatively until Angel shrugged.

Wesley collapsed onto the couch next to him. “Ah well. Pour me another, boss man?”

“Unfortunately we seem to have finished the bottle. Both of them. Damn it.”

“Indeed. Should we send out for some? I’m sure my assistant’s still up.”

Angel was considering Wesley very seriously. The dark eyes stared up at him steadily despite their combined alcohol intake.

“Wesley.”

“Yes Angel?”

“Those average-looking girls you fuck? The bottle-blondes and the bored housewives and the drunks? They don’t satisfy you.”

Wesley grimaced. “Straight to the point!”

“So you tried men. Don’t look at me like that, I smelt them on you. But they couldn’t scratch your itch either?”

The Watcher rubbed his forehead and kept his eyes on the coffee table as he mumbled. “No.”

“You’re trying to find someone who’ll make you lose yourself – someone rough, someone it’s okay to give in to. Well I hate to say it, but you won’t find ‘em Wes.”

“What makes you say that?”

“You’re a different man now. You’ve grown into yourself and lost all your petty self doubt. Only people who could dominate you now (without pissing you off) are demons.”

Wesley barked a laugh. “Demons? Because we know so many people who have done that without horrible consequences.”

Angel shook his head sloppily. “You never know Wes. There are plenty of nice, peaceful types out there with not-so-great family trees.”

“Are you trying to pimp for me now? Is that what you’re doing?” Wesley didn’t sound mad, just confused and drunk.

“I could always set you up with Spike, but I doubt he’d go for it. He likes his goods damaged.”

“Hey, I’m plenty damaged! And a very desirable man! So I’ve been told.”

“You’re right. Spike would be lucky to have you. Should I call him?” Angel teased.

“Leave off! God, me and Spike? Can you imagine?”

Wesley was snickering, but Angel could imagine it very well. His blonde boy (who he was fond of despite appearances) all slender limbs and sharp angles but strong, like a jungle cat. Yeah, if they were animals Spike would be a jaguar or a black panther. Angel felt he’d be more of a bear – big and broad and shaggy on top. And Wesley? Once upon a time he might have been a ferret, all bright eyes and bushy-tail. In his darker periods he could be a wolf, clever and vicious and cold. But now? Somewhere in between. Angel could imagine the pale skin of Spike curled around the trim waist; Spike’s fingers tracing the jagged pink scar across his throat; Spike smiling wickedly at the sparkle in those blue, blue eyes. The image kinda pissed him off. Why did Spike always get to have all the fun?

“I dunno Wes. Maybe he’s a little too...boisterous for ya. Not quite right for your needs. You want to give up your control, but Spike has never wanted to be anyone’s master, just their bitch.”

“Then we’re back to square one. If _Caritas_ was still around, you could take me out and help screen applicants.” Wesley snorted.

Angel sat up unsteadily. “ _Caritas_ might be gone, but I think I know just the place.”

*****

They stumbled out of Angel’s limo and he nodded to the driver.

“If we’re not out in half an hour, head back to the office.”

“Sure thing, Mr Angel!”

“Come on Wes.” The vampire slung an arm around his colleague’s shoulders and led him into the bar.

It was your typical demon haunt – dingy, dim to zero lighting, packed and stinking to high heaven of all the usual bodily fluids, plus a few extra. Angel waved to the bartender and sat in a booth near the corner, fingering the suspicious red stains on the table absentmindedly. Wesley flopped back against the black leather of the cushions and sighed.

“Why are we here again?”

A shapely green demoness in an apron and not much else placed a scotch in front of each man and winked at Angel. He tossed her a crumpled-up twenty and she hurried back to the bar.

“That’s why. We’re getting you laid Wes – and not by some half-naked demon chick who wants you to father her bastard spawn. Guys only, so stop drooling in your drink.”

So Wesley sat back and watched Angel survey the room as they sipped the (inferior) whisky. The other man’s dark eyes swept over the clientele grimly. Wes tried his best to look suave and mysterious, all the while laughing to himself that the whole thing was ridiculous. After about ten minutes he noticed that a lanky brunette was watching him. He smiled and nudged Angel.

“What do you think, Expunger demon in human form?”

As soon as Angel glanced at him, Wesley’s admirer turned and walked further down the bar.

“Well! I guess not.” The Englishman chuckled half-heartedly.

“Excuse me, do you have a light?”

Wesley looked up into bright violet eyes in a completely black face as the demon held up a cigarette.

“Er, no sorry, I don’t smoke.”

The demon smiled wide. “Oh baby, I’m sure you do.”

Wes could feel himself blushing. The man wasn’t a species he could instantly recognise, but he was incredibly well muscled and bare to the waist. His hair was cropped in short black curls and his fine features were as beautiful as his low musical voice. The darkness of his skin seemed to go on and on, like looking into an abyss, but there was a strange radiance to it – as if shadows could glow.

“So what’s a human like you doing in a demon bar like this?”

“Just having a few after-work drinks. And you?”

“The very same. I’m Caliban. You got a name to go with that pretty face?”

“And what tribe of Gulonga demon are you, Caliban?” Angel interrupted.

The two eyed each other silently for a moment. Caliban glanced between Angel and Wesley and raised his brow.

“ _Forulk_ , actually. You familiar with it vampire?”

“I am.”

Wes interjected, completely oblivious to the tension. “Where are my manners? I’m Wesley and this is Angel.”

“Sounds backwards to me honey. I’d call you heavenly but it wouldn’t cover it. You wanna dance?” Caliban extended a black hand that only had four fingers.

Angel growled softly, the rumble coming from somewhere deep in his throat. The demon withdrew his arm swiftly.

“Sorry. Didn’t realise he was spoken for.”

Caliban turned and headed back to the bar and Angel got to his feet.

“Come on Wes. Let’s get out of this dump.”

“But I...but we...he was...” Wes stammered as he hurried to follow Angel outside.

They fell into the waiting car and Angel ordered it back to the office. He stared out the tinted windows with his usual brooding-face while Wesley tried to make sense of it.

“People were acting like I was a leper. The only human in a demon bar, it should have been like, like – flies and honey! Or is it bees and honey?...Regardless, you take me out to find some demon tail – though not literally, hopefully – and then you scare off the first one to show any interest!”

“He was a Gulonga.”

“Harmless!”

“They prey on the sick and elderly!”

“Of which I am neither!”

They both pouted for a block or two, then Wesley regrouped.

“He said I was spoken for. Why would he say that?”

“He must have thought we were together.” Angel mumbled.

“Yes, but why would he think that?”

Angel was torn between two equally bad ideas: tell the truth, or act dumb. He went with the long-awaited truth.

“Because tonight, I want us to be.”

*****

The rest of the drive was done in silence. Wesley might have been drunk, but he was still an intelligent man, and he very quickly understood Angel’s admission. The vampire had his head in his hands and didn’t stir once – he might have been a statue. The driver pulled up in front of the lift that led back to Angel’s apartment and waited.

“Look, Angel-”

“Don’t. Just forget it, okay? We’re drunk and I’m all loose with the demon and stuff. It’s not a big deal.”

He finally looked over at Wes and caught a glimpse of...disappointment? Disbelief?

“No.”

“No what?”

“No. I mean yes, we’re drunk, but I’d be lying if I said the thought’s never crossed my mind.”

“There’s a good reason we’ve never...plenty of good reasons.”

“Oh yes. Dipping your nib in the office ink and general scandal and vulnerabilities and such.”

Angel shuffled a little closer on the seat. “Not to mention moments of perfect happiness and collective history.”

Wesley leaned forward almost subconsciously. “They’d never let us live it down.”

“They’re not here.” Angel’s thigh was practically touching Wesley’s now, and the gap seemed to burn the vampire worse than daylight.

The Watcher glanced at the pouting lips so close to his and shrugged. “Fuck ‘em.”

Angel closed the distance between them with preternatural speed, crushing Wes flat against the seat as he kissed the smaller man. The Watcher pawed back, wrapping his hands in Angel’s hair as he squashed lips against lips and hips against hips. He was suddenly struck by how massive Angel was – his chest seemed to curve around Wes completely, and huge hands cupped his ass firmly. _Gods, I hope he’s this big everywhere._ He wormed a hand between them and with great difficulty managed to reach down and grab the bulge in Angel’s slacks. The vampire flinched but kept kissing Wes. _Definitely big_.

Wesley was gently rubbing his hardening prick in a very distracting way, so Angel grabbed his hand and held it above his head.

“Are we forgetting who’s in charge here?” he growled.

Wes shook his head energetically and Angel sniffed.

“Good. Keep your hands there.”

He leaned in and kissed Wes again, flicking his tongue against the other man’s lips until they parted and he was free to explore the warlock’s mouth. Angel’s tongue was cool but biting, still soaked in the dregs of their last drink. His kiss was demanding; every time Wes tried to speed things up or push deeper, Angel drew back. He kept the twisting flow of their tongues slow and teasing. Wes could feel the soft sensations beginning to spread over his skin, waking his whole body from the liquor’s spell. Impatient, he arched up towards Angel as much as the other man’s firm grip would allow.

Angel sat up, ignoring Wes’ pleading look and instead leaning back against the seat.

“Kneel.”

The Watcher sank onto the floor of the limo between his boss’ legs and looked up expectantly. The demon was whispering to the soul gleefully. _This should be interesting. Let’s see how far we can push Wes out of his comfort zone_. He grabbed the human’s hands and placed them on his belt buckle.

“Undo them.”

There was no flicker of hesitation on Wesley’s face, but that might have been the Dutch courage. He undid the belt, and then the buttons, and then the zip – all the while staring up into Angel’s eyes like he’d found a new religion.

“Pull them down.”

Wes dragged the slacks down to his ankles and stared.

“Not a big fan of underwear, then?”

“I find it constricting.”

“I can see how you would.” And there wasn’t a hint of a nervous waver when he said it, despite the incredibly hard proof of Angel’s desire pointing straight at him.

“I’m curious, Wes. Those guys you’ve been picking up lately, I know you never let them fuck you – not your style. But tell me, have you ever sucked cock before?” the vampire leered.

“On occasion.” Wesley smirked.

“Show me.”

Wes tentatively placed his hands on Angel’s knees and leaned forward, running his palms flat across the other man’s pale thighs and stopping at his hips. He trailed one finger down the length of the solid shaft and circled the tip before running his fingers in a zigzag along the underside. Angel hissed and stopped himself from thrusting forward into the loose grip Wes now had around his dick. The mystic spiralled up and down, rubbing his thumb over the slick slit at the top before circling down right to the base. His touch was firm and constant, hands never leaving Angel for a moment. The vamp was sucking in unnecessary air and his eyes were locked on the pair staring up at him hungrily. The Englishman leaned forward and took the head between his lips, tongue darting out to lap up the first salty drops of pre-cum oozing from the swollen flesh. Angel made an odd growling noise and Wes sunk down further, puckering his lips as he slid almost halfway to the base. As he swirled his tongue around the shaft, his lips sealed against the skin and his mouth became a hot, wet, vacuum that Angel could imagine himself drowning in.

“Shit, Wes! Stop being such a fucking tease.” He snarled.

Wesley ignored him, now bobbing on the end of his cock, pausing at the top for a quick swipe with his tongue but never going further than the halfway point. Angel wanted to be considerate, but the darker parts of him were screaming to just grab that short hair and fuck Wes’ pretty mouth until they were both dead. Angel told the demon to shut the fuck up and enjoy the ride for once. At that moment, when he was digging his fingers through the leather of the seat and willing his pelvis to stop straining forwards, Wesley took him in to the hilt in one sudden move. Angel felt himself hit the back of the other man’s throat (not a rare occurrence, for him) and lost all self control. He seized Wes by the back of the head and slammed his head back and forth, prodding the tip of his prick against the slippery walls over and over with no regard for human breathing requirements. Wes just hung on and tried to suck as much air through his nose as possible, scraping his teeth against Angel lightly as the vampire thrust frantically.

“Jesus CHRIST!”

Wes had Angel literally by the balls and was tickling them lightly with one hand while the other had reached back and pressed hard against the sensitive tissue between sac and ass. Angel roared and exploded into Wes’s mouth. The other man had no choice but to swallow as fast as he could, the pulsing of his mouth milking out Angel’s climax until with a quiet sigh his hands loosened. Wes pulled back and gulped in a few big breaths while Angel waited for walls to stop spinning.

Wesley looked up at the recovering vampire with no small satisfaction. He knew which things he was good at and which he wasn’t, and that was definitely one of the good ones. Usually he would never have let his partner take control like that, but it had felt amazing. He hadn’t had the space in his head for worry or grief or planning or disgust – no thoughts more complicated than ‘don’t get smothered’ and ‘make it good’. But as he watched Angel straighten himself up and retrieve his pants, the doubts started to creep back. What now?

Angel caught the moment when Wes’ smug grin changed to uncertainty, and he growled.

“I’m not done with you yet, Wesley. Open the door.”

A little surprised, the other man hurried to comply. Angel followed him out and tapped the elevator button. They stepped into the little metal box and Angel swiped his security card, punching the button for his penthouse before slamming Wes against the wall and sliding a hand down the front of his jeans as their lips met. Wesley stiffened as cold fingers clamped around his semi-hard member, gripping Angel’s upper arms desperately as they kissed. The elevator dinged and the doors slid open on Angel’s lounge room. Wesley was abandoned as the vamp strode off towards the bedroom.

“You coming?”

*****

Wes walked in to find Angel already barefoot and topless lounging on his bed. The windows lit the room with the soft gleam of surrounding skyscrapers, and as Angel lay in the half-light Wesley could imagine how beautiful Angelus would have looked slinking out of the shadows. _Death with the face of an angel, indeed_.

“Come along, Wesley.” He sang jokingly.

The warlock approached the bed in a daze, too busy staring at the remarkably firm-looking muscles of Angel’s chest. He wanted to be pressed against it until he couldn’t breathe; he wanted those strong hands holding him down as he screamed his release.

Angel stood once he was in reach and pulled the plain black sweater over Wes’ head roughly. He yanked open his fly and slipped his hands under the back of Wesley’s waistband, cupping the supple ass beneath.

“Angel.”

It was barely more than a whisper, but he heard it. “Take off my pants.”

The Watcher hurried to obey, freeing the thick shaft and gazing as it started to harden once more. Angel was less careful, ripping Wes’ jeans at the seams as he tore them off and flung the smaller man onto the bed. The vampire knelt over him and Wesley looked like he was going to hyperventilate.

“I just wanna look at you Wes. Behave.”

He tried to lay still as Angel passed his hands over the lean arms and toned legs, the stomach that had built up some muscle over the years, the stubbly chin and cheeks, a chest completely smooth and hairless, the short dark hair that led down to Wesley’s straining prick. He slid them all over Wes, hard and then soft and then hard again. When the other man was completely relaxed beneath him, Angel closed the gap between them. Wesley hissed as their cocks slid along each other, and Angel used the opportunity to slip his tongue into Wes’ mouth. The kiss was deep and lengthy, Wes getting more breathless by the second. He wanted to touch Angel but his hands were trapped by the bigger man’s bulk. Meanwhile the vampire was free to clutch at his sides and rub their hips together tantalisingly slowly. Wes squirmed but it was useless – he was at Angel’s mercy.

He sat up and grabbed a bottle from the bedside table, tipping oil over his fingers.

“Normally I would use blood, but it’s murder on the sheets.”

Lifting his weight off Wes’ pelvis slightly, Angel reached down and ran his fingertips over the warm human cock that lay swollen and pleading between them. Wes’ head flopped back as cool, tickling swirls swept over his prick teasingly. Angel rolled his balls between big fingers and pushed softly on the area behind. He circled Wes’ puckered entrance slowly and paused with one finger on the brink.

Dark eyes full of lust met slightly nervous blue. Angel didn’t ask if Wes was ready; just pushed forward past the ring of muscle until his finger was completely encased in the Watcher’s passage. The thick digit rubbed against his walls and Wes had a moment of panic when he remembered the much bigger appendage Angel had for him.

“Relax, Wes. You’re letting your head get in the way again.”

Angel tipped more oil on his other fingers and slipped a second in, scissoring the two slightly as his nails scraped the flesh surrounding them in short shocks that fried Wesley’s spine. The vampire twisted around inside until he reached a spot a little further up. He pressed hard against it and Wes bucked under him with a staggered gasp.

“That’s it, boyo. Don’t think, just _feel_.”

Angel flicked his fingertips over that spot in quick bursts and Wes’ eyes almost crossed. He clamped his legs around the other man’s back and wrapped his fists in the sheets as he tried to push his hips and close the gap between Angel’s fingers and his prostate. The vamp used his free hand to pour the rest of the bottle over his cock and smoothed the oil down into all its ridges with a hiss. He withdrew his fingers and pushed the head in at the same moment. Wesley stiffened as he was stretched out painfully, but Angel didn’t stop, thrusting forward steadily until he was buried in the smaller man. He paused there and gave Wes a minute to adjust, human teeth nipping at the pale chest before him.

The pain was indescribable at first, like he was being torn in two down the middle. He wanted to wriggle away, but the idea of moving was equally terrible. Yet as Wesley lay there impaled on his boss’ cock, his brain filled with nothing but soft curses, he couldn’t find time or space to worry, to regret, to grieve, to miss anyone or anything. The very solid presence in his ass left no room for thought – it was the only thing left in his awareness, as if his entire world had shrunk down to the strong arms against his torso and the prick splitting him in half. And the longer it was there, the more he got used to it. After awhile the fire in his flesh calmed, and he could feel the pressure against his prostate. It wasn’t enough – he needed that slight touch, and he twitched his hips at Angel impatiently.

The vampire chuckled and slid out carefully, plunging back in hard. Wesley crooned and tightened his grip in the sheets. Angel drew back again and thrust forward even harder, and Wes swore.

“Angel, do it!”

The other brunette snarled. “Who’s in charge here, Wes?”

He stopped moving entirely and Wesley pawed at his chest weakly.

“Please...please, Angel...alright, fine, you’re in charge, you’re in charge!”

The vampire was in motion again instantly, sawing in and out with preternatural speed. Wesley’s eyes screwed shut and he moaned in one long, constant gurgle at the back of his throat. He was dissolving, squashed between Angel’s bulk and the mattress until there was no more Wesley, until even his thoughts about the various sensations had faded into one big haze and he was just an empty vessel for Angel to fill with whatever he pleased.

Angel winced at the hot, tight muscles gripping him as he swung into the Watcher. He’d always preferred humans. Vampires had the whole depravity thing going for them, but strength and kink couldn’t compare to warm flesh and the soft thud of a human heart speeding up as he thrust harder. He knew Wes was gone, lost in the powerful shocks of Angel’s movements. He wrapped a slippery hand around Wes’ straining hard-on and squeezed in time with his pumping hips. With a sigh Wesley oozed his release over Angel’s hand, viscous white dripping over the ridges of his enormous fingers. The vampire slid into game face, but made no move to bite the other man; he simply rested both hands on the bed and jack knifed himself within those clutching walls a few more times. Angel roared as he came, pelvis locked against Wes’ as he emptied himself. He flopped down onto the Watcher, forgetting his weight as he buried his human face in the smaller man’s shoulder.

“Um, Angel? You still awake?”

“Hmmm?” came the muffled response.

“Because breathing might become an issue if you pass out on me.”

“Oh, sorry, sorry!” The vampire quickly rolled onto his back, tugging Wes against him tightly. The mystic didn’t protest at the firm grip around him – it seemed to be the only thing keeping his battered body from melting into the sheets.

They laid quietly for a few moments as Angel waited for the human to get his breath back. He was sobering up, and he knew that when the sex haze had faded he was gonna have all kinds of attacks of conscience. Taking Wesley to a demon bar to get him laid? And then fucking his mouth in the company limo? Not very professional, but god he’d wanted it. Angel decided there had to be something in the bowels of his kitchen for human guests, and was about to ask Wes if he wanted anything when he realised the other man was grinning softly in his sleep.

“Ok, Wes. Hope you’re still smiling in the morning.”

*****

Wesley’s head felt like it was being squeezed through a vice, set on fire and dunked in an icy lake at the same time. It was a familiar feeling, and only second to the terrible ache that ran through all his muscles, like the morning after a big demon fight, but seemed to concentrate in one giant fiery knot somewhere near his ass. Near his ass? No, it was more than that. In his ass? But why...

Wes opened his eyes and found himself curled up against his employer’s hard bare chest. Said vampire was watching him with a very sheepish expression.

“Morning? Can I get you anything?”

“Aspirin. Lots and lots of aspirin.”

The vamp carefully extricated himself and headed for the kitchen, and Wes laid flat on his back and stared at the beige ceiling. He had woken up in some strange places but this took the whole bakery. He hadn’t even finished processing the thought that he was in Angel’s bed before the other man was back with a handful of pills and a glass of water.

“Here. I remember human hangovers. After two hundred years they’re still fresh in my memory.” He joked.

“Thank you,” Wes gasped, swallowing a couple of the little white lifesavers and swigging back the whole glass. He wiped his mouth on his arm and glanced out at the bright LA morning outside.

“Must be strange for you.”

“What?” Angel said casually, really unsure about where this conversation was going.

“Keeping human hours. Sleeping during the night and up all day, inches away from the sunlight you’ve feared instinctively all this time. Must be quite a head fuck.”

“Well you get used to seeing the world only in darkness, but the sun never went away. There were always glimpse, indirect light – the day didn’t stop existing for me completely.”

Angel sat next to Wes, both leaning against the cushy headboard heavily.

“So I should probably go downstairs and deal with whatever new drama’s on the schedule today. But stay here and sleep it off, wash up, help yourself to...whatever you can find in the kitchen, I guess.”

“Thanks, but I think I’ll just wait for the painkillers to kick in and then head home to change.”

“Don’t be stupid, Wes. I’m pretty sure we covered the whole emotionally distant bullshit last night.”

“So what, you’d prefer that I was waiting in your bed when you get back? Is that what we are now?”

Angel shook his head. “No, Wes. We’ll never be that. But you’re my friend, and I care about you, so you’re gonna stay here and recover. And when you start to feel antsy again, you’re gonna come to me instead of fucking lacklustre girls or pretty boys or possibly evil demons, ok?”

Wesley nodded. “I guess I could do that.”

“Ok. Good. So I’ll see you later then.”

Angel strode off to his bathroom and shut the door. Wes could hear the water running, and decided he was going back to sleep for awhile – and for once, the prospect of his dreams didn’t frighten him.


End file.
